


Poet lauriate

by Eolian_bard



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Letters, Poetry, Soren Needs a Hug (The Dragon Prince), Soren can't count but God gave him fingers, Soren is doing the best that he can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eolian_bard/pseuds/Eolian_bard
Summary: Soren gave up as much as anybody to end the war. More than a lot of people. after all that its hard to know what next
Kudos: 30





	Poet lauriate

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm new to the dragon prince fandom but after watching the show I felt like I needed to do something so that nobody can forget that my boi Soren is a poet. I live for comments and I'm more than happy to hear criticism if you have it. Thank you for reading my story.

Soren sits numbly on a stool outside the royal study. The weight of his sword balanced across his knees is only sensation that feels real right now. It’s already been a week of peace, but how can you get used to peace at all when you’ve lived your whole life at war. There isn’t a crown guard at the moment. The long process of sifting through the old ranks for Viren’s people and vetting replacements has been neglected in the blur of negotiations, treaties, and celebration. For now the crown guard is just him Soren, the son of the usurper and maybe the only man in Katolis who had betrayed three of its kings in less than a year. If it were up to him to pick a new roster, then his name would be off it immediately. Too much history, too much time divided between his family and his nation. But he doesn’t get to pick anyone else. So he keeps his long watch.

  
When he gets drowsy he pulls out his oil stone and lets the gentle uncomfortable grinding of stone on metal keep him awake. The blade has no need of sharpening. Truth be told it was irresponsible to needlessly wear down the blade. He wished he could grind it into nothingness. He began to try and count out the syllables in his head. The stone moves on the steel? Maybe Moves on steel. In the morning, before Ezren wakes, Rayla appears from the out of the darkness. He’s so tense and tired that he only gets his blade half out of its scabbard before he realizes who it is. She doesn’t say anything to him. Just leans up against the wall and begins to fidget with one of her strange weapons. The intent is obvious so he heads first down to the kitchen where he grabs some bread and cheese from the pantry.

  
He’s been awake for a day and a half now, ever since Ezran got back from the summit of the pentarchy. The cold dread of what he might dream about, what he might think about once he has no objective or watch to keep prevents him from getting in bed. Instead he pulls out paper ink and pen. He spends too long wetting the nib and tapping it off. Its dry the first time he sets it to paper.

  
_Hey Claudes,_   
_I hope your doing all right. It’s a stupid question and I’m stupid for asking. I want to apologize for leaving, making you choose, the last time so much. I don’t know if I can. It felt so good when I realized he was only and illusion. Like everything else that had happened had been fake too. But if it came down to it again, If he was real this time and I knew it. I’d do it again. I’m not mad at you for anything. I think I am the only one who might know how hard it would have been for you. I couldn’t ask it of anyone. If you’re okay with it I’d like to come visit you once this has all calmed down. I understand if you don’t want to see me. But whenever your ready to see me again, I’m ready to come._   
_The last time I was exited to do something and do it because it was my idea was all the way back at the hospital. Don’t get me wrong I’m so grateful for what you did for me but everything since then has been choose the lesser evil. Do this because someone has to do it. Do this because nobody else can or will. I can’t trade away any of that. I wouldn’t. But I’d like to want something again, someday._   
_Sorry this letter will be so short. Too much of what I want to talk to you about is too important to put in a letter. I feel like my words dry up when I write and I don’t know how to sound like myself. Whatever else happens remember that I’m your brother. I love you. And if and when you want me back in your life I’ll come._   
_Love Sor-bear_   
_P.S. I wrote this out but I can’t trust anyone else with it. I double checked the counting three times. I’m thinking about calling it better times._   
_Stone grinding on steel_   
_Destroying dull into sharp_   
_Would I could be so_

  
He sighs and puts the cover back over his inkwell. He’ll read it again in the morning, this is two important to trust to exhausted Soren. Numbly he realizes that he’s still in all his armor. He pulls the pieces off one by one by now too tiered for proper storage or maintenance. The thought of sleep fills him with dread still but the fear of staying up is enough to push him forward. He hopes he’s tiered enough to fall right asleep, maybe his brain has been on so long that there won’t be any time for dreams. His luck has never been that good.


End file.
